Ugly Duckling
by Star of the Moon
Summary: "Once upon a time, there was an Ugle Duckling..." Harry's never read the Ugly Duckling. When he spends the summer at the Weasley's home he finds out they have a copy of the story, so he decides to read it. That is, until Molly Weasley finds him.


**Ugly Duckling**

Molly Weasley woke with a start, and listened carefully, trying to figure out what had woken her. After several seconds of listening, she realized that someone was walking down the stairs. Quietly, so as not to wake her husband, she got to her feet and grabbed her wand, and went into the hall. Lightly the tip of her wand, she looked around. Whoever it was that was awake had gone to the living room. She went down the steps, and was slightly surprised to see the hunched over shape of Harry Potter sitting on the couch, a book and a Muggle flashlight in his hands.

"Harry?" She said quietly. He jumped, and fumbled to hide the book behind his back.

"Sorry Mrs. Weasley." He mumbled, staring at the floor. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She sat next to him. "It's alright. I wake up easily. I have to, living with the twins." She smiled, and he returned it weakly. "What book do you have?" She asked curiously.

His face burned red as he slowly pulled out the book and showed it to her. It was title 'Fairy Tales'

"I was going to put it back." He murmured. "I just wanted to read it." Molly looked at him in surprise. She had been raised by purebloods and she'd still heard most of the Muggle stories.

"It's alright, dear." She reassured him gently. "You can read any of the books we have out. But the middle of the night might not be the best place."

His face turned a bright red again, and he nodded.

Seeing she had embarrassed him, she changed the subject. "What story were you reading, dear?"

He mumbled something she didn't catch.

"I'm sorry, dear." She said. "I didn't catch that."

"I said… I said the Ugly Duckling." He muttered.

"That's a good story. Have you read it?" She asked. He shrugged.

"Part of it…" He replied, remembering the one time his aunt had let him hear part of it.

"'_Ugly duckling!' Mother Goose would say. 'Why are you so different from the others?' And the ugly duckling felt worse than ever. He secretly wept at night. He felt nobody wanted him."_

_At that point, his aunt would look up at him, and in a nasty voice hiss, "That's right. Nobody wants a freak." Then she would tell him to go to bed. He would spend the rest of the night wondering what happened to the poor little duckling. He hoped it was ok. _

"Harry?" Mrs. Weasley said, snapping him out of the memory. "I asked if you wanted me to read to you." Harry stared at her for a moment, slightly shocked by her question.

"Um… sure… if it's not a big deal." He mumbled. She smiled and picked up the book, and began reading.

_Once upon a time down on an old farm, lived a duck family, and Mother Duck had been sitting on a clutch of new eggs. One nice morning, the eggs hatched and out popped six chirpy ducklings. But one egg was bigger than the rest, and it didn't hatch. Mother Duck couldn't recall laying that seventh egg. How did it get there? TOCK! TOCK! The little prisoner was pecking inside his shell. _

_"Did I count the eggs wrongly?" Mother Duck wondered. But before she had time to think about it, the last egg finally hatched. A strange looking duckling with gray feathers that should have been yellow gazed at a worried mother. The ducklings grew quickly, but Mother Duck had a secret worry. _

_"I can't understand how this ugly duckling can be one of mine!" she said to herself, shaking her head as she looked at her last born. Well, the gray duckling certainly wasn't pretty, and since he ate far more than his brothers, he was outgrowing them. As the days went by, the poor ugly duckling became more and more unhappy. His brothers didn't want to play with him, he was so clumsy, and all the farmyard folks simply laughed at him. He felt sad and lonely, while Mother Duck did her best to console him._

_"Poor little ugly duckling!" she would say. "Why are you so different from the others?" And the ugly duckling felt worse than ever. He secretly wept at night. He felt nobody wanted him._

Harry turned his eyes to his lap and stood, ready to be told to go.

"Harry?" Harry winced. "What's wrong? Do you not want to read the rest of the story?" Harry lifted his eyes and looked cautiously at Mrs. Weasley.

"Really?" He asked slowly, unwilling to let himself believe.

"Of course! We haven't even gotten to the good part." Mrs. Weasley said, smiling. Then she began reading once more.

_"Nobody loves me, they all tease me! Why am I different from my brothers?" _

_Then one day, at sunrise, he ran away from the farmyard. He stopped at a pond and began to question all the other birds. "Do you know of any ducklings with gray feathers like mine?" But everyone shook their heads in scorn. _

_"We don't know anyone as ugly as you." The ugly duckling did not lose heart, however, and kept on making inquiries. He went to another pond, where a pair of large geese gave him the same answer to his question. What's more, they warned him: "Don't stay here! Go away! It's dangerous. There are men with guns around here!" The duckling was sorry he had ever left the farmyard. _

_Then one day, his travels took him near an old countrywoman's cottage. Thinking he was a stray goose, she caught him._

_"I'll put this in a hutch. I hope it's a female and lays plenty of eggs!" said the old woman, whose eyesight was poor. But the ugly duckling laid not a single egg. The hen kept frightening him. _

_"Just wait! If you don't lay eggs, the old woman will wring your neck and pop you into the pot!" And the cat chipped in: "Hee! Hee! I hope the woman cooks you, then I can gnaw at your bones!" The poor ugly duckling was so scared that he lost his appetite, though the old woman kept stuffing him with food and grumbling: "If you won't lay eggs, at least hurry up and get plump!" _

_"Oh, dear me!" moaned the now terrified duckling. "I'll die of fright first! And I did so hope someone would love me!" _

_Then one night, finding the hutch door ajar, he escaped. Once again he was all alone. He fled as far away as he could, and at dawn, he found himself in a thick bed of reeds. "If nobody wants me, I'll hid here forever." There was plenty a food, and the duckling began to feel a little happier, though he was lonely. One day at sunrise, he saw a flight of beautiful birds wing overhead. White, with long slender necks, yellow beaks and large wings, they were migrating south. _

_"If only I could look like them, just for a day!" said the duckling, admiringly. Winter came and the water in the reed bed froze. The poor duckling left home to seek food in the snow. He dropped exhausted to the ground, but a farmer found him and put him in his big jacket pocket. _

_"I'll take him home to my children. They'll look after him. Poor thing, he's frozen!" The duckling was showered with kindly care at the farmer's house. In this way, the ugly duckling was able to survive the bitterly cold winter. _

_However, by springtime, he had grown so big that the farmer decided: "I'll set him free by the pond!" That was when the duckling saw himself mirrored in the water. _

_"Goodness! How I've changed! I hardly recognize myself!" The flight of swans winged north again and glided on to the pond. When the duckling saw them, he realized he was one of their kind, and soon made friends. _

_"We're swans like you!" they said, warmly. "Where have you been hiding?" _

_"It's a long story," replied the young swan, still astounded. Now, he swam majestically with his fellow swans. One day, he heard children on the river bank exclaim: _

_"Look at that young swan! He's the finest of them all!" And he almost burst with happiness._

"The End." Mrs. Weasley finished, closing the book gently.

Harry stared at the book, unsure if the story really went that way.

"Did you like the story?" Mrs. Weasley asked, seeing the confusion in the young boy's eye.

"My aunt never read that far." He said softly. "I didn't know he found a family at the end."

Mrs. Weasley blinked in surprise. "Well how far did she read?"

Harry shrugged. "To the part where he cries," He admitted. He knew that part perfectly. How could he not, after a similar message had been pounded into his head for years?

Being different is bad. It makes you a freak.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley said, hugging the small boy. "She wasn't a very good story teller then, was she?" Inside, she was fighting the urge to find this woman and demand to know why she couldn't even finish a simple story. But right now she couldn't.

"Now, why don't you go back to bed?" Mrs. Weasley suggested. "We're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow, and you need to be well rested."

Harry nodded and turned to leave. But then he hesitated. Molly was about to ask what was wrong, when Harry turned around and hugged the woman.

"Thank you." He whispered, then he was gone.

Mrs. Weasley stared after the boy, her heart swelling. Because Ron hadn't just brought home a find. He'd brought home his new brother.


End file.
